God Called In Sick Today
by LovelyPriestess
Summary: Beginning of book 13. After a failed escape, Vanessa and Serena have become slaves to Adamantis and Stanton. Passion. Love. Seduction. Fear. Commands. Pain. Everything is about to crash and burn. Lemons! Odd Pairings!
1. I'm Your Servant, Do As You Please

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Daughters of the Moon. Vanessa and Serena had not escaped, is the deal. Expect lemons, smut, whatever else you'd like to call everything about to happen. And: Serena x Stanton, Catty x Kyle (you'll see), Catty x Vanessa (love it!), Adamantis x Vanessa (onesided, people, **_**ONESIDED**_**!). Lemons! Perhaps more pairings, too. Not sure. **

_Send a heartbeat to  
The void that cries through you  
Relive the pictures that have come to pass  
For now we stand alone  
The world is lost and blown  
And we are flesh and blood disintegrate  
With no more to hate._

—The End Is The Beginning Is The End, Smashing Pumpkin

* * *

_**Chapter One - I'm Your Servant, Do As You Please**_

Vanessa, curtains of blonde tresses framing her face, gazed into the blazing fire of the hearth, uncomprehending yet thankful for the warmth. Across the room, Serena paced, pinching her chin. Contemplative. Both girls appeared sickly, with gaunt cheeks, pale complexions and flesh, and slender, frail bones that would surely snap easily under pressure.

"I don't understand," Serena mumbled, voice withered and feeble. The blonde merely craned her neck as to stare out the sinlge window. Into the crimson skies of the ominous Nefandus. Shadows twirled and swirled. Stars burned savagely in the crimson pool. No moon shimmered. No guidance or energy for the two Daughters to embrace. It smelt of blooming flowers and scented candles in the rather stylish bedroom.

They had been brought, while blindfolded, into this room for an unknown reason. Candles in holders against the wallpapered walls flicked yellow and orange brightness across the area. A fur rug, shaped into the body of a white tiger, resided in the center. Teeth still barred. Yellow orbs glaring dangerously into nothing, displaying its beastly character. A silver tray with fish bones and a half-drinken glass of scarlet wine rested on an end table beside a plump, velvety armchair. One queen-sized bed—satin red sheets neatly made, with curtains hooked up on the wooden pillars of it—mocked Vanessa. She desperately wanted to fall into a deep slumber. Blurred darkness. A refreshing restart for the next day.

_Would_ another day dawn for them?

Serena groaned before flooping down beside a vanity desk. Glaring into the mirror. "This is a girl's room," she whispered, toying with a small, emerald-encrusted chest. Jewels probably piled inside. However, as Vanessa observed, it opened, and Serena, glancing inside, suddely paled. Her lips curled down and her fingers smoothed across something inside the chest. Expression stunned.

The blonde, leaping up from her position beside the hearth, strode forward. "Serena, wha—?"

The wooden door slammed open, two Regulators storming inside, mossy green skin reeking of the stench of a revolting swamp. Serena eased out of the seat in front of the vanity, an unknown item clutched in her hand as she hid it behind her back. Vanessa, examining the Regulators, situated herself beside Serena, both girls standing tall. Standing without fear. It showed evidently, though, through the tough mask.

"_Calm down_," a nasally voice commaned. The bristling Regulators eased out of the way, shoulders slouching. Adamantis strolled through, cloak draping to the floor. Behind, Stanton and several other Followers trailed behind, the hem of their ebony robes flapping behind; Stanton's a more silken quality, with the symbol of evil etched into the back, mirroring his status as Prince of the Night. Two hands holding the eternal flame of evil. Evil. Serena would never admit to it.

But Serena eyed with him venem seething through her. However, a new emotion—hard in her emerald eyes—was present. Curiosity? Hope? Her grasp on the item seemingly tightened. Before Vanessa could question her, Adamantis spoke up.

"I suppose you are wondering why you are here, _Goddesses_?"

Vanessa nodded, dumbfounded, and Serena stared at the floor with petulant yet confounded eyes. Stanton, noticing her hands behind her back, arched an eyebrow, perplexed. Adamantis, oblivious, laughed whole-heartedly at them. Whole-heartedly? He didn't have a heart, nor a soul.

"We will not destroy you."

Serena didn't even register him speaking, too focused on the floor. Avoidining something. Stanton's gaze, perhaps? But Vanessa, despite the coldness of the air and the shivering of her body, felt her heart beat rapidly at the notion. They'd live. But at what cost? Sensing this curious state of fear raging in her mind, Adamantis sniggered, expression menacing.

"We've decided to make you slaves..."

One of the Cincti members stumbled forward instantly, excitement blazing in his voice. "I want _that_ one!" He pointed to Serena, who refused to gaze upward. Vanessa watched as Stanton's eyes narrowed noticably and his fingers curled into fists. Adamantis shoved the man back, annoyance in his tone as he responded, "Only myself and Stanton may _have _one."

Adamantis and Stanton locked eyes. A telepathic exchange occured, judging by the glassines of their eyes. Vanessa frowned upon seeing Stanton's face crumple slightly, his body stiffen. Adamantis had chosen Serena, Vanessa thought, and the thought... _relieved _her. The selfishness of it slammed into her. Nefandus was changing her. Pandora's daughter. A treacherous beauty. She didn't want to be with Adamantis, yes, but that didn't mean she had to be glad that he'd chosen Serena—!

"I'll have the blonde then," Adamantis remarked jovially.

Her heart momentarily stopped. Serena, too, took a sharp intake of breath. The idea of being with Stanton didn't please her, nor Stanton, judging by his stony expression and deep-set grimace. Adamantis laughed boisterously at the pain on Vanessa's face, and after gesturing behind, one the Regulators staggered forward. Grasping her arm. Serena, finally snapping up, reached for Vanessa. Whimpering slightly. A hand clasped around her wrist, and she glared as Stanton pulled her back. Possessive in the worst way. Face stony, emotionless.

"Serena!" Vanessa cried as the Regulator trudged off. _She_, trapped in his unmoving grip. The door slammed shut, sealing Stanton and Serena inside; not before Adamantis tossed him an article of clothing, silk and deep violet. The Cincti members, visibly envious and agitated, lumbered off. The hallways she was dragged through were darkly-lit. Cold. That cold of sins and autrocious evils.

_Hell._

No.

_Nefandus_.

Adamntis strode easily beside her and the Regulator. Smiling serenely. Owning her. Thinking he could command her around. But he could. The very thought caused violent tremors down Vanessa's spine. Commanded by Adamantis, the worst of all?

She gritted her teeth. "You _bastard_!"

"We have made specific outfits for the both of you," Adamantis explained nonchalantly, ignoring her remark. "Silk gowns, in fact—very beautiful. My daughter possesses one, also. Hers is a dark jade, breezy and flexible. She values it. Yours will be a bright blue to match your eyes." He stroked under her eyelids. Such a disturbing touch. But something else stabbed her heart.

"Y-You daughter...?"

His eyebrows rose. "Catty lives with me. I'm sure she'll enjoy your company."

Vanessa, grieving, halted in her resistance to the Regulator's grasp. Her head sunk down. Every emotion seeped from her chest, leaving it hollow. Defeat struck her down in a single blow. Adamantis merely smirked.

-

Serena rubbed her bare arms soothingly. The violet-colored gown was cold. Smooth against her body. It was backless with stringy straps and a front that draped down, revealing too much cleavage. The hem swept to the floor. A pool of dark purple under her feet whenever she strode. She was barefoot, and the cold wooden floor slithered through her. A single chain dangled around her right ankle. It, too, was cold.

The bedroom, as she now understood, belonged to Stanton. He was currently off somewhere; having simply tossed her the gown before swiftly exiting the room, not registering her presence. Ignoring her. After bathing in a massive tub in the bathroom connected to the room, and slipping into the gown, she finally observed what she had discovered in the chest. It was a necklace, one that had Stanton had given her months and months back. When she had awoken in Nefandus, alone with Vanessa, it had been gone from her neck. The gold chain swung before her eyes. A gemstone. A rock. Colored into a glittering azure-emerald mix. Their eyes. Together.

Her eyes burned. He must still care for her, right...? Yet... The way he stared at her. Revulsion. As if she was inferior. Nothing but a waste of space. A Goddess, his true enemy, someone he loathed since the beginning of his new life as a Follower. Nothing to him.

"_Why else would I have wanted you...?_"

His previous words flicked across her mind. He had used her, strung her along with a seductive smile and charming words. Of course, once freely stepping into the Cold Fire and allowing the Prince of the Night's robe to drape on his shoulders, he'd be purely evil. A creature of wickedness. She had foolishly given in, listening to her naive heart and not her wise mind.

"Stupid," she grumbled, smacking her hand to her forehead before slumping on the bed. She traced a finger along the satin fabric, and her eyes burned again. But with dull sleepiness. "Damn..." Her eyes fluttered briefly, and just as she fell to her side, darkness clouded her vision. Hours seemed to fly by, and before she could understand, she jerked up, aware of the darkness of the room. The candles were no longer lit.

Propping up on her elbows, only crimson light spewed into the bedroom through transparent curtains. Just as she opted to go back to sleep, a shadowed figure caught her attention. She gasped.

Stanton, illuminated by the red light, was hunched over on a Victorian-fashioned sofa, eyes closed... Sleeping. Swallowing the nervousness, she observed him. His handsome, angular face. The blonde tresses that framed his face. He no longer wore the traditional robe. No, instead, he sported a silky, button-up shirt, black fabric, and black pants. He hadn't woken her to take back his bed. So sweet. So kind.

Her heart hammered against the inside of her chest. Perhaps... he had... watched her for a few minutes...? She sat up more, and with shock, she watched as the sheets draped down. She hadn't tucked under them. He must have—

"Stop it," Stanton murmured. Her eyes widened and she scurried back, startled. His eyes fluttered open. Luminous blue that glowed beautifully. He eased out of the sofa, stretching once before saying in a deep voice, "You're lovestruck teenage girl. I didn't want you to become sick from the cold. If you _belong_ to me as a... servant... than I need you healthy." Glaring at her, he added, "I don't love you. I can't."

She frowned, displeased and dishearted. "I hate you."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "You love me. It's amusing."

"Shut up!" She slid out of the bed, fingers flexing. Smoothing her hands down the dress, she felt more cold upon realizing that long, V-slant had been cut into the sides, also. Something she hadn't realized before due to the dazed state of mind. _Sleazy men_, she thought sourly before glaring up at Stanton. However, her eyebrows pinched together. He seemed rigid... gazing at the slant... the slice of flesh. Bronze and flawless.

And she laughed.

"You love my body, though, don't you?" she taunted. Not comprehending the newfound ache of outrage in her body. It commanded her words. Stanton crossed his arms, and she continued mockingly, "You may be pure_ fucking _evil, but you're still the _common_ human guy in everyday life."

He seethed. "Common guy?"

Serena, controlled by rage and vengeance, strode over to him. His hand shot out at the last second, gripping her wrist painfully. She hissed. His fingers only tightened. "Don't taunt me, Goddess," he warned, voice low and husky and rather vicious. "I'm much more powerful than you."

"You wouldn't harm me," she challenged, fully confident.

In response, his grip tightened. Blood stopped circulating to her hand. After several prolonged moments of them glaring, he released her and took a single step backward. Smug. Always smug. Rubbing her wrist, she turned around and managed several steps before halting. Her body ached. Something burned. It was foreign and blazed inside her. Bold. She felt... bold. She felt different... _alive_. It almost hurt.

"Go to bed," she heard Stanton order. "You're very crabby and not like yourself. More so a hormonal _bitch_."

She breathed evenly. "Not... like... myself?"

"Sleep."

Serena, breathing now shallow, whipped around. Stanton, who was about to slump back down, paused, eyebrow cocked. "What are you doing?" he questioned, somewhat exhausted. Exasperated. As if everything was facade to him. How lovely.

"If you can't stand me," she replied deeply, "then why did you choose me and not Vanessa?"

His eyes were slits. "Adamantis wanted her."

"Yet you're more powerful. Was it fear? Does he intimidate you? I can't blame you. He's _way_ more frightening."

Stanton stormed forward, angered, yet halted only inches away, calming himself down before saying, "You're not Serena. I don't understand why you've turned into a clone of Cassandra"—she gritted her teeth—"but I suggest you quiet down before I'm forced to hurt you even more."

"Then why didn't you choose Vanessa!" she cried, furious. "I don't want to me near you."

He glared out the window. Lips pressed into a firm line. "I can't say." He then smiled coyly down at her. "And you_ do _want to be near me." Adding to it, he swept his fingers down her arm. The odd flame ignited. Bold. Different. Alive. It hurt.

Serena couldn't stand how he mocked her.

"You want to be near me," she retorted. "You may not love me, but like I said, you're a guy controlled by emotions. No, wait... If some other girl offered herself, you wouldn't take it. No, you're too virtuous. But I'm not some other girl. I'm the single girl at the moment that you can't resist. I'm... _temptation_."

"_Temptation_?" He scoffed. "You don't know the meaning."

Bold.

Different.

Alive.

No more pain.

She let a single finger move under the strap of her dress, and unfaltering, she slid it off. It eased down, flesh being revealed even more. The next strap. More skin. Naked chest. Exposed. Stanton visibly became a stiff statue, head cocked slightly. Observing the newly exposed skin. _Gawking_, not observing. Tantalized. Intoxicated. Enchanted. Her full, plump breasts. "A common guy," she mumbled, to which he clenched her eyes shut.

"A common _whore_," he snapped. Refusing to gape even more.

"You're trying to resist," she mocked cruelly. _Bold_. "But you can't. I know what's in your mind. How much you wanted my body when we were together, but too much of a gentleman to ever give in. I _respected_ that. But being in this horrible place for so long... I'm not me." Her palm smoothed up his chest, toying with the buttons, and she marveled at how taut he became. All by _her_ doing. _Her _touch. "And I'm not a common whore. I suppose I'm just _your_ whore. I am your servant, right? Shouldn't I do what you want?

"... And if you don't want this..."

Her voice trailed off as she began slipping the straps back up. Stanton's eyes opened, and the moment she blinked, his fingers were wrapped around her neck. Forcing her forward. Their lips clashed together. Teeth smacking against one another as their mouths opened. His tongue battled against hers, and in response, she bit his bottom lip. Blood seeped into her mouth and his. It tasted good. The fiery passion.

Moving his hand away from her neck, he shoved her away. Stunned, she fell onto her back onto the bed. Blinking at the ceiling for a moment, she glared, but found him discarding his shirt and easing around the bed. Moving to hover above her. Warm lips pressed against the hollow of her neck. She tangled her fingers through his blonde tendrils. A hand ruffled her dress up, revealing lacy underwear. Wasting no time.

Being exposed, as she expected, did not mortify her. Because in this world, in this unfortunate world where _everything_ was heightened—emotions, abilities—, she couldn't feel like a normal human being. She was something new. Something different. More fitting for this dimension. Stanton once commented how Followers experienced much greater emotions, as shocking as it sounded, than most, especially with such increased senses. Stronger senses. Stronger emotions. Stronger _pleasure_ and lust.

In one easy move, he slipped the gown off her. It pooled to the floor along side his shirt. She threw her head back against the pillow. His tongue traced across both breasts. Nipping and sucking. Her breathing was low. And he wasn't slow or tender. Because he _couldn't_ be. Too much emotion, raw and passionate, raged against him. She didn't mind. She was the same way, lost and commaned by something new.

But mostly lost. Lost in something.

Before she could understand, his tongue was _inside _her, underwear torn off. Hands dug into her waist as she instinctively arched upward, gasping. She tossed her head to the side, unable to stand the warm flow glowing in her lower regions. Tumbles of burgundy-colored curls, silky and soft, piled under her head. The flame struck her. He moved his head from side to side, adjusting the position of his tongue inside of her. Moving in deeper. It continued for several minutes.

"Oh, God," she gasped, chest moving up and down. He continued flicking his tongue, darting around. Tasting as much of her as possible. His fingers pressed against the tender flesh of hips. Forcing her still as she writhed. One hand soothed her thigh, quivering from the pleasure.

She gasped once more, "_Fuck_!"

The warm flow slithered off, being replacing by a beautiful heat that felt incredibly satisfying. Stanton reappeared on top of her, while she continued panting. They briefly locked eyes before he roughly shoved his lips against hers. She drowned in it, but the fumbling of his fingers, glazing across her stomach, alerted her, and she knew he was removing his pants. Metal clattered on the floor. A belt. Nothing but skin on skin.

She was a virgin. He knew. But it wasn't soft and gentle. He wasted no time. Because she couldn't feel the pain. Being lost for months in such a treacherous, cold place, she couldn't feel that much anymore. But other emotions were reawekened. They distracted pain of any sort. And because Stanton knew this, he didn't just enter smoothly and softly while asking, "Are you okay?"

Because he _couldn't_.

A shutter of breath rolled off her tongue as he _shoved_ into her, positioned between her legs. Her ankles, in response, locked around his waist, unmoving, and her fingers dug into his back. Slicing through skin. Blood slid down. He merely hissed, pressed his face into the curve of her neck, and thrust once more. The wounds healed, but she dug deeper into his back, wishing for _every_ inch of him as deep inside her as possible.

"Fuck," she cried, panting. "Harder!"

He continued thrusting as deeply as possible. The fire broke loss, increasing then declining, before increasing once more in intensity. It burned and scorched. So wonderful. She could feel it building, and she wanted desperately to hold onto it for as long as possible, but also to release as much as possible—to have the fire burst free. It was a painful contradiction.

His breathing was rough in her ear. He bit her neck, tongue soothing the redness away as he continued slamming into her. Her head was titled back as she released her hands from his back. Her fingers carved into the silk sheets, pulling it up slightly. His hands rested on either side of her as he moved up slightly, speed increasing immensely fast.

Fast. Quick. Panting. Thrusting.

She moaned loudly, whimpering. Crying out sometimes. Her eyes shut. Too much. Not enough. Too much! Not enough! The confusion hurt. It was becoming too much. The flames inside her were about to explode. Stanton continued moving faster and faster, moving in and out as he continued pounding into her. _Fucking_ her, seemed fit. Not love-making. Hell, not even _sex_!

Fucking.

And the word pleased her as she smiled, eyes fluttering open. Stanton lowered his head, eyes clenched shut. Fingers tearing at the silky sheets as both of them released something burning and intense. She couldn't bite down on her lip. No, she_ screamed_, head thrown back against the pillow in ecstacy as she let everything flow free. The heat blazed, a numbing feel that was the best thing _ever_. Stanton, still inside her, shoved in as deep as ever for a few moments of bliss, prolonging the massive climax. The liquids spewing forth.

The numbing beauty of the fire dispersed. Her breathing slowly subsided and Stanton collapsed beside her, chest heaving. Both gazed at the ceiling, working to gain some oxygen. She, however, snickered at the sight of the sheets. Torn and strewn, with fabric poking out. A breeze whistled through the adjacent window. Comforting and cool against skin that protruded sweat. Sticky, damp sweat.

It was, however, _not_ silent.

"Wrong," Stanton murmured. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "This was wrong. He warned me. Stupid, _stupid_..." His fist slammed down. Smashing a pillow. Serena tugged the sheet over her nude form, uncomprehending. He was talking to himself. Conflicted. "He warned you," Stanton continued, frowning. "You couldn't control yourself. But he doesn't have to know."

Serena's fingers clasped his upper arm. Hard muscle. The notion _excited_ her, but she disregarded it. "Adamantis warned you not to try anything with me? What do you have to fear of him?" Her eyebrows knotted together. Distress. It plagued the room.

"He shouldn't know," Stanton whispered huskily. "He'll use it against me. He's planning something." A sigh tore from his throat. "Then again, _everyone's _planning something nowadays. The Atrox is more vulnerable than usual. Everyone wants to destroy it, even the Cincti. Everyone wants to become the next ruler, the next_ Atrox_."

"But you're next in line!" she argued gruffly.

He scoffed. "Then they'll destroy me, too."

"You're stronger," she protested. Unnerved, however, by the vague sense of fear in his tone. Why fear? She'd never seen such an emotion on him. "If the Atrox is destroyed, then the power will flow to you, and you'll rule."

"Not if I'm destroyed first." He rolled to the side. Staring into her eyes. The fear, again, broke through. It terrified her. "He doesn't know I care for you, but I think he can guess. Catty's been good about keeping memories of us locked away. But he can_ see _it in me." His thumb caressed her cheek. Feathery. "As of now, you're the only weakness I have. I can't allow him to know. We can't do anything like this again." He smiled pleasantly. A row of perfect teeth. "Please, Serena, for my sake and yours, never seduce me again. Or make me so furious. Keep your dress on, please?"

She simpered. "You enjoyed it."

"Every last bit."

"I am your servant," she continued. A devious temptress. "Your _slave_."

Stanton scowled. "You don't belong to me. You belong to yourself, Serena." Seeing the brief hurt in her eyes, he added, "But that doesn't mean that I don't have a part of you. I _do_ have a part of you. I've officially claimed you. I've... _taken _a part of you. Something precious. Something I'd like to enjoy one last time before we put up our _masquerade_ of _not _loving each other."

He rolled on top of her, propped on his elbows. Careful not to crush her. She giggled against his tender kisses, peppering every inch of her. Two fingers slid inside of her. She gasped in excitement and pleasure, and the cycle repeated. Although less angry and more tender. Loving. Soft. She delighted herself in the rushing warmth. It pulsed through her boiling blood. Boiling to high temperatures in such a cold place.

So tender.

Brisk.

Light.

_Human_.

-

Vanessa lounged on the wooden floor. Animal heads, doe-eyed and frozen in permanent fear, were pinned to each wall. A massive hearth emenated a consoling warmth. The fire crackled, snapping at her. The gown was silky and smooth against her skin. Indeed, the baby blue fabric, shimmering against the flames, matched her eyes completely. Shimmering and glassy.

She may have been less anxious, but everything about the situation haunted her. It wounded her heart. Caved in her chest. She and Serena were slaves, forced to do the bidding of their "owners". Their _masters_. And they way Adamantis gazed at her. His coal black eyes, flashing yellow sometimes, wandered along every trail of naked flesh. How could Zoe Reese have...? The idea disgusted her.

"Don't be disgusted by my mother," a frosty voice sneered. Catty strolled forth, velvety black cloak _swooshing _behind her lace-up boots. Her features were hard, sculpted, a statue that not even Aphrodite nor Helen of Troy could compete with. Her fragrance was fresh roses. Flat, dark-brown tresses were curled at the tips, several swirls that remained intact. Beautiful. Everything about Catty was beautiful.

Everything except her eyes. They were dark, stony. No emotion at all. It melted away Vanessa's confidence that her friend could be saved. Her best friend. How could Catty have so easily discarded their history, their sisterly love?

"Because I was destined for this." Catty answered her thoughts.

Vanessa frowned. "Well good for you, _Dark Princess_."

"Are you mocking me?" She cocked her head. The blonde huffed. Crossed her arms. Unable to stare into those dark pools of wickedness. "Vanessa, you should feel no fear of me," Catty continued. This time she was mocking. "None at all."

The blonde eased to her feet. Energy crackled. "I'm far more powerful. I'm a Daughter of Pandora. A Daughter of Destruction. You're nothing but a... a... a _half-breed_!" The cutting remark did its deed. Shimmering crimson lights began forming before Catty. Her eyes were narrowed. Both girls faced each other. The tremendous force of their indivisual auras clashed. Before either could strike, another presence formed.

"Aw, bravo, Vanessa! I'm quite proud of you, giving into your evil nature!" Adamantis applauded before sharply turning to Catty, the smile vanishing. His daughter, shoulders slumping, lowered her head. Ashamed? Frightened? Before Vanessa could observe, she stormed out of the room, the hem of her cloak swaying behind. "I'm sorry for my daughter. She's become wildly uncontrolled," Adamantis apologized.

"Fuck you," Vanessa spat. "Stop acting like I'm your welcomed guest. You made me and my friend a slave!"

"Oh, but I saved you," Adamantis countered. Shaking his head at her, as though she was a child. "The Atrox would have killed you sooner or later. But I proposed we make you and the other Goddesss temporary servants. Perhaps until you become to weary. I even wished to give the both of you immortality, somehow, and although you'd be members of the Cincti... you'd remain slaves. Eternally."

She clenched her teeth. Fists shaking at her sides.

"But the Atrox feared how much power you'd have as Immortals." He shook his head, annoyed. "As if you and the other could ever match the strength of the Cincti combined!"

"But we could!" she snapped. "As Goddesses, right now, we could!"

He smiled knowingly. "Then why have you not?"

She opened her mouth. Nothing came up. Agitated, she locked her arms around her knees and glared into the fire. Adamantis, examining her, slowly sauntered in front of her. "Why did you have to choose me?" she whispered. "Why did you have to make such a stupid plan? Enslaving us! Why don't you just kill us!"

"I wouldn't mind killing the other Goddess, _Serena_." His face scrunched in disgust. "But the Prince of the Night wouldn't seem to like his prize being destroyed. After all, he'd worked so hard for her."

Vanessa scowled. "She hates him. He used her."

"Did he...?" It was a question that hung in the air. Adamantis seemed contemplative. "If I had her killed, he'd surely have me destroyed in the process. Retaliation. How childish. I'd seen him evolve, seen him from the beginning. I've never seen him so taken by someone. She is the key, though," he mused, stroking his chin. "I suppose having her would be useful to him. If he was planning something... Something dangerous."

She rubbed her arms. The heat was becoming too much. "He's not like the rest of you," she retorted. "He's not planning anything."

"He's next in line for the throne," Adamantis said. Something seemed to occur to him. "That means he's more likely to destroy the Atrox. He'd gain the power instantly. Not if I killed him first... I'd already warned him."

At that statement, Vanessa tensed. "Warned him...? What do you mean?"

"I had promised to have Serena destroyed, maybe even forced into the Cold Fire, if he tried anything with her. We can't have one of our loyalist members being devoted to a Daughter. But I hope he'll give in and convert her into a Follower. Give into his true Follower nature. He doesn't want her to become a Witch Goddess. She'd be pure evil, uncaring of him. Probably go to the arms of someone else." He smirked. "But as a Follower, he could still control her. She'd just have no hope."

Vanessa bristled with infuriation. "I don't understand why you think he loves her." She once considered it; that he may have indeed loved Serena. _Considered_. Most often she wondered. Worried. He was the Prince of the Night, sworn to evil. He could not love. And his statement when they tried to escape... If _Serena_ was convinced... that meant that he most probably had used her all along.

"Stanton is different around her," Adamantis explained. "Almost _protective_. Not in the way a Follower guards his victim because he wants the claim. No, this is something different. It's protection in the way a man defends his love. The way he stares at her. So frightened, like if he isn't watching her every moment, she'll die, and that seems to be one of the most terrifying ideas to him. Her death."

"Why do you care so much?" she demanded in a sharp tone of voice. "Why the _fuck_ do you care? Why couldn't you just pay attention to your _daughter _as much as you pay attention to _Stanton_?"

Adamantis seemed to drink in her clipping insults. It fed him. Helped milk his depravity. "Because Catty means nothing. She is no threat. Stanton is a threat. He becomes more of a problem when obsessed with a mere woman. A _Goddess_, nonetheless!"

"So you spend a majority of your time contemplating Stanton and his_ inner workings_?" she taunted. The mokcery did seem to hit him. His eyes flattened. Penetetrating through her tough barrier. She remained in place, kneeling beside the fire.

"You're my slave," he whispered, voice nasally yet dark. "My servant. You do as I please. Dance."

Her jaw dropped to the floor. Shock vibrated through her body. It rattled her bones. She snapped to her feet. "W-What...? No! I'm not doing anything for you!" In response, ribbons of energy wacked at her. She fell against the wall. Plaster scattered to the floor. Dust scurried into the air. Her back ached in pain. Her legs quivered. Pressure rooted her to the floor; pain that weighed down on her. Heaviness throbbed against her skull.

"Every time you disobey me," Adamantis drawled smoothly, "you will be punished in this fashion. And the pain of it, the attack, will become much more brutal each time. You're my servant. You do as I command, Goddess."

In response, she sobbed.

This was not a future she had planned.

-

Catty pressed her back against the wall. Hearing Vanessa sob so despairingly wounded her. She wanted so desperately to storm into the room, cock back her fist, and sending it flying int Adamantis's face. Her _father_. No. Not even in her thoughts she couldn't think it. She couldn't say it aloud. Not without her throat constricting. She had two parents. Kendra Turner and Zoe Reese. Adamantis was nothing.

And now, her best friend was being brutally used. A slave. Forced to do that vile creature's bidding. Her heart did reach out for Serena. She was safe. Stanton loved her. He'd confessed it to Catty just weeks back. Back when she had stumbled upon him fumbling with a necklace, solemn and devestated. It had belonged to Serena, and in that moment, that _sinlge_ moment, Catty had understood everything. All doubt drained from her mind.

"_Fucking_ Adamantis," she sneered. He was harming Vanessa. For days he would toy with her, mock her, degrade her, force her to do things that the blonde could not handle. And the way he gazed at her. So lustful and sensual. Catty vowed on her own life that she wouldn't allow Adamantis to touch any part of Vanessa's body. Anything but that. Anything but that!

Because Vanessa was her best friend, her sister, her comrade.

And she loved her.

* * *

**AN****: That lemon was definitely inspired by a sex scene in season two of **_**the Tudors, **_**bewteen Henry and Anne in their wavering relationship. That was intense. Smacking and blood and hitting! Or the scene from **_**Mr. and Mrs. Smith**_**! Now **_**that**_** was crazy! I've never written a lemon. I mean, I'm a virgin, so I go by the raunchy romance novels that my mom reads, you know? And other fanfics, of course... and imagination. X.X **


	2. Kiss And Control

_"Oh don't talk of love," the shadows purr  
Murmuring me away from you  
"Don't talk of worlds that never were  
The end is all that's ever true  
There's nothing you can ever say  
Nothing you can ever do... "  
Still every night I burn  
Every night I scream your name  
Every night I burn  
Every night the dream's the same  
Every night I burn  
Waiting for my only friend  
Every night I burn  
Waiting for the world to end._

—Burn, The Cure

* * *

_**Chapter Two - Kiss And Control  
**_  
It smelt of sweet lilies. A vast horizon, fields of white lilies. Pink painted in the center. Blossomed and exuberant in beauty. Vanessa drowned in the perfume. She pressed the silken blouse to her face. Inhaling as much as possible. Peeking above the fabric, she peered ahead. A single painting hung across from the semi-circular bed. The sheets were cotton, warm. Dark jade in color. And the painting, it depicted a dark-haired beauty. She was fallen. Falling from grace, it seemed. Her expression was melancholy. Nimble fingers curled around a stone-cold chain, the amulet dull.

A painting of Catty. This was Catty's bedroom. Adamantis and his daughter had wandered off to a meeting. Vanessa may have attempted to escape, but the threat of it was clear. Magic bound to the mansion. Breaking through the barrier would alert him immediately. Regulators swarmed about, lingering. Guarding her. And that same magic somehow captivated her into _behaving_.

So she merely had exmanined the house and stumbled upon this bedroom. Catty's perfume misted the air. Vanessa savored all of it. This was definitely her best friend, the one who laughed jovially and grinned brilliantly. Morning sunshine. That was her smile, her beaming smile.

Sighing, the blonde sauntered out. But not before glimpsing back once into the bedroom, before flicking the switch. Darkness shrouded the room. Catty's bedroom possessed actual lamps. A Japenese lantern swung beside the bed. Every other inch of the house was candles and hearths. As if they were living in medieval times! She'd quite frankly be more frightened if they were sinister beings clothed in neatly-pressed suits and dresses. A Mafia attire, almost.

Then again, she was an American who'd watched too much television.

-

They gathered together. It seemed that only Adamantis and Stanton remained in normal attire, rather than the traditional robe. Catty eyed her father disdainfully. From far above, the Atrox hovered. A dark plume of shadows, wispy tendrils snaking out. Anyone could easily be lost in the mass of darkness. Some Cincti members glared, unafraid. Others merely appeared on edge, Stanton amongst them.

He wrung a finger around the hem of his silky black shirt. His lips were strewn into a nervous line. He seemed to struggle between smiling and forcing a frown. Something Catty noticed. She glanced at her father. He was too preoccupied glaring toward the Atrox.

"I suppose you both have your servants?" the Atrox snarled, voice indistinct, almost demonic. Stanton, upon response, craned his neck to the side as to stare off, masking his expression. Adamantis smiled ferociously and nodded earnestly. "You chose the blonde one, am I right?"

Adamantis smirked. "Yes, master."

"The Daughter of Pandora," the Atrox purred. The statement seemed to please both it _and _Adamantis. "Daughter of Chaos and Destruction. Far more devestating than what Tianna could ever hope to do." Some of the Cincti members cringed at the name. Hatred spewed forth. The foolish girl who had bound their master back to shadow form. Only, Catty _cringed_ from the grief that cut through her heart.

"You do know you may only have them as servants for a short while?" the Atrox questioned. "I do not want them alive."

"Their birthdays are approaching." Adamantis stepped forward, not at all enjoying the concept of losing his slave. His _toy_. "Why not wait until then? They would most probably chose the become spirits, descending to _Selene_." He spat the name. Again, the room bristled with malice. All except Catty and Stanton: Catty, who continued loving the Moon Goddess inside the area of her mind where _no one _could touch; Stanton, who seemed somewhat frightened at the thought of Serena choosing to forever leave the world.

The Atrox simpered. "I'd hoped to make them something more. Perhaps members of the Cincti?"

"As if one wasn't enough," one of the Followers growled under his breath. His glare unfazed Catty. Not many approved of her position amongst them. For some, it was absolute envy, while others merely couldn't stand having a_ Daughter of the Moon _with them. Because, despite the phoenix burned into her flesh, she'd remain one of Selene's daughters. Always.

Adamantis cocked his head. "And the blonde could be my _consort_," he sneered, delighting himself in the idea. Catty gritted her teeth. The bastard would never touch her, would never have the pleasure of it. Not with her around. "I'd very much like to _keep_ her."

_Control_, Catty thought, breathing in and out. She feared her emotions were emitting in tremendous waves. For months she had practiced, perfecting this charade. Blowing it up over rage, the most passionate of emotions, would surely be foolish and dumb. She'd worked too hard to ascend into this position, needing to protect Serena and Vanessa. At the moment, however, Vanessa had been hit with the worst dilemma.

"We'll see," the Atrox responded. Mysterious. As if a secret were present. One that only it knew. "And Stanton may keep the Goddess he'd worked hard to seduce. You'd even defeated Zahi in your conquest, am I right?"

Stanton, lips drawn into a tight line, nodded.

"I'd very much like to see more of such events," the Atrox announced, something akin to a rumbling of laughter sounding from the wispy shadow. "I enjoy seeing you men and women—my _loyal _Followers—fighting over these pathetic Daughters." It seethed. The dark tentacles lashed about. "Aw, I sense some of your lust. Demetrius?" On a que, a white-haired Follower stepped forward, jade eyes scorching. "Why not fight for the mind-reader? And you, Lucian? You seem truly captivated by the stunning blonde. I can't blame either of you. They may be_ Goddesses_, but they are very captivatingly beautiful creatures."

Some eyes wandered to Catty. Her slender frame. The rosy lips. Stanton, head bowed down, flicked his flashing yellow eyes to Demetrius. His fists quaked at his sides. Lucian seemed to be contemplating, momentarily observing Adamantis. Sizing him up. They were near equal in power. The tension in the air nearly stung, so extreme and electrifying.

The mass of darkness rumbled with obvious amusement. "Aw, how I love competition!"

_Damn these men_, Catty cursed in her head. Not only would Vanessa need to be protected by Adamantis, but she sensed at least five more Cincti members drowning in the thought of courting the blonde. Touching her with their grim fingers. Caressing her fine hairs. Sniggering at the sheer fright in her blue eyes as the straps of her dress were eased off.

"You guys need to get laid, _big time_."

All eyes flickered to Catty. It seemed that only Stanton cracked a smile. Some even turned beat red. But the passion of everything continued increasing. The tense friction in the air stroked her. Her heart hammered against her chest. As everyone began dispersing, fading into shadow, she found herself streaking through the crimson skies. The cold eternal night clung to her body. She needed to protect Vanessa, save her from whatever was to come. Stanton could handle Serena and those horny men on his own.

Vanessa was _her _main priority.

-

Stanton landed in his bedroom, the shadows whipping behind him. He instantly noticed the change. The satin sheets, once torn, were gone, with only the cotton, burguny-colored quilt neatly folded out on the bed. Empty wine glasses from before were no longer scattered about. New logs of wood were stacked in the hearth, not yet touched by flames. Every candle was lit, the flames casting as much light as needed to see—for the common mortal, who's senses were not heightened in the way Stantons's was.

_She's being a servant. A maid_, he thought, shamefaced. Serena did not derseve such a life. And he did not know why she would do all of this. Perhaps for the masquerade? Boredom? He couldn't be with her much, afraid of losing control. _Kissing _her was not accepted. None of the Cincti present in Nefandus knew of his relationship with her, and he very much wanted to keep that secret locked away. A block had already shieled Serena's mind from anyone skimming through her memories, for she was not powerful enough to place a hard barrier around her mind.

"I'm_ plenty _powerful."

He froze, stunned, before the smile played across his face. The melodious voice flooded his ears. So sweet and soft. Just the same as her silky curls, her always expressive jade orbs, and her shimering smile. And indeed, _she _came strutting from the bathroom, clad in the same gown, head cocked. Sultry lips were full and coated with a nice shade of pale burgundy.

"You found it?"

She nodded, an eyebrow cocked. "Why do you have make up?"

_For you, when you live here with me for eternity_. He projected the thought into her head. Her lips curved upward into a smile, and rubbing her temples, she sauntered to the sofa and flopped down. She seemed exhausted.

"You didn't need to do all of this." He motioned around the room.

"I was bored," she responded with a roll of her shoulders. "I really have nothing to do."

He pursed his lips. "I'll bring you a cello. And some... novels, I suppose."

"Oh, _plenty _fun." She rolled her eyes. Before he could even blink, her expression crumpled. A glassy coating sheathed her orbs and she placed her face in her palms. For several moments, her body convulsed as silent tears racked her body. Instinctively, he perched down beside her, pulling her gently to him. No, he could not have such a memory, such a tender moment stored in his mind.

But he couldn't help but press her to him. His arms wound her. She seemed comforted. Cheek pressed against his chest. Breathing calming down. The silence expanded across the room. It was serene. Or, it may have been. But the way she touched him, so gentle and gratifying. The night from days ago flashed before his mind's eyes. His grip on her tightened. Muscles contracted.

"Settle down," she soothed. Her body shifted away. She was obeying the rules. He should appreciate her for that, but then again, he remembered the way some of those Cincti members thought of her, just as revolting as Adamantis's lust for Vanessa. Demetrius, especially, had a keen eye on her from the start. She reminded Demetrius of his wife from six-hundred years back. His pretty, curly-haired, green-eyed wife.

Stanton couldn't help but clench his teeth.

"What was the meeting about?" Serena inquired, toying with her fingers. Not touching him. Keeping a distance on a sofa, a distance he despised. "You weren't gone for _too _long."

He shook his head. "Nothing." He couldn't very well tell her that there were now several Followers obsessed with her. Vanessa, too, and he knew how much Serena worried about her blonde friend. He didn't want to frighten her, make her edgy. He couldn't help but feel glad that _most_ desired _Vanessa_, although Serena was far more stunning. Beautiful. Enticing.

"You're lying."

"Even if I was, you certainly couldn't enter my mind," he teased. She glared haughtily at him for a moment, before crossing her legs and sighing. The slant in her dress dipped down, over her thigh, revealing too much skin. His heart hit an irregular beat, the once cool rythm rolling into a slight frenzy. Oblvious, Serena gazed ahead, lost in thought. Cheek cupped in her palm.

He couldn't bite down on his tongue before it slipped out. "_Serena_..." The longing whisper, so luxurious on his tongue, fluttered in the air. Serena seemed paralyzed, ears catching the lust. She didn't stare at him, not even a glimpse, as she stood up. Going to walk away. Obey their masquerade and not at all show any signs of affection.

"Serena," he repeated, voice low. Almost warning. His fingers intertwined with hers. He tugged her down, to which she fell beside him. His arms snaked around her waist as he moved to linger above of her. She didn't respond at first to his lips crushing against hers. His hands pinned her hands above her head. Disappointment poured into his body. She was obeying. Why not give in?

_Because she can't risk it. __**You **__can't risk it_, the rational part of his mind echoed.

Sighing, he obeyed that area of his head. Ignore his body.

Just as he was about to move away slowly, she roughly _shoved_ him off. Shock vibrated through him as he fell against the sofa's arm, the mahogany wood of it hard against his back. He felt glad that she would be so committed. At least one of them could be reasonable. But that the thought vanished as she crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. Fingers unbuttoning the shirt.

His body burned in a pleasant manner. Even his lips parted, breathing more shallow, audible. Her lips glazed across his chest, a warm touch. Slender fingers, feathery, swept across the hard muscles. He spread his fingers through her fine curls, enjoying the soft feel. His entire body froze when he realized how she was kissing _lower _and lower. Past the chest. Past the stomach. Lower. Neither spoke. Only the uneven breathing peppered the air.

Her fingers undid the button of his pants. A coy smile greeted him once as the zipper was pulled down. And then, her beautiful face vanished. Mounds of hair. And all he could do was shutter pleasurably at the feel of her lips, her _mouth_. At the building fire in his body.

-

Vanessa eyed the brunette, all the while toying with the silvery knife. The lengthy, finely-polished wooden table consisted of various meals. Fresh fish, beady eyes seeing into death. Crimson wine. A full turkey. Both girls sat across from one another, sometimes glancing. No. In fact, Catty gazed at her meal, a meager salad. Never anywhere else. Vanessa only glared with malicious eyes.

Eight others had already joined them. They sensed the tension, somehow enjoying it, but retained their indivisual conversations. Adamantis, however, exmained both girls with an amused smile. She felt disgusted by him. Him and his striny hair, hawk-eyes, and wicked smile. The way his teeth glistened, as if coated by venom that pooled into his mouth.

"I can not wait to have her, too," a dark-haired man sighed. Gawking at Vanessa. She shivered. All night they seemed to be leering at her. And that statement seemed to imply she'd be _shared_. Across the table, Catty finally glanced up. An indistinct, unusual flash of emotion glinted in her stony orbs. The blonde, eyebrows rising, looked the other way. Had she heard her thoughts?

Adamantis spoke up, words directed toward Vanessa. "How is your meal?"

Her eyes flickered to the salmon and grapes, and single pomegranate. "Whatever," she mumbled disdainfully. She plucked a grape and feebly pressed into her mouth, more to his benefit. It did the deed. He stared the other way as to speak to another man, conversation hushed. It seemed hours later and she was clearing off the table. Sweat dampened her neck and arms. Smoke curled into the air from several candles, flames gone. Just as she was stacking the plates, her entire body froze. Someone was observing her. Burning holes into her back.

_Adamantis_, she thought bitterly.

"_Catty_, actually."

Vanessa, a gasp rolling off her tongue, spun around. Indeed, Catty stood behind her, arms folded across her chest. "This is very fulfilling, is it not?" Her mockery stabbed at Vanessa's heart. The blonde's fingers slipped. Of course, the single plate once in her grasp smashed to the floor. Jagged fragments scattered around her barefeet. Stepping around them, she glared at Catty, arms crossed.

"What the hell do you want?"

Catty cocked her head. "Why so rude to me? Aren't we _best _friends? You know, _buddy-buddy_?"

"You turned to evil," Vanessa seethed. Her words hissed through her clenched teeth. "You're a lowlife _bitch_. You betrayed us. You betrayed me and Serena. And worst of all, _Catty_... you betrayed _Tianna_." At the name, Catty stirred from her once controlled posture. "She died for us, died for _Earth_, and not soon after, you run off to your evil father and fall to his knees like a pathetic little girl who's caramel apple was stolen!"

The brunette's face crumpled slightly. Not soon later, she was composed, breathing heavily. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then enlighten me!"

Adamantis sauntered into the room, the hem of his robe stirring up dust. Without even glimpsing toward his daughter, he commanded, "Catty, please clean up the mess in here. Vanessa, come with me." He beckoned her forward. Although frightened, she obeyed. In the corner of her eye, she spotted the emotion in Catty's eyes. Fear? Terror, in fact. Yet Vanessa continued on.

They continued down the corridor. The mansion was rather modern, despite the candles. Diamond-encrusted chandeliers hovered in the high-arched ceiling of the entry hall. The floors were marble. Glistening and polished. There was also patterend carpet: burguny, gold, and pine green. She'd even spotted Adamantis clad in an everyday, modern business suit once. A sight unbecoming when surrounded by robed men and women, hoods veiling their eyes. The sofas were leather, sometimes white, dark brown, or ebony black. Many animals heads, as she'd seen before, were mounted against walls.

"I hope your enjoying the hospitality?"

She blanched. _Ignorant, mocking bastard!_—"_Hospitality_? _Nefandus_, of all places? Oh, _fuck you_." Her feet planted themselves on the floor. Adamantis paused just inches ahead. Enoying her tantrum, the outburst of fury. "I'm your fucking servant, a God damn slave, don't feed me your _bullshit_! And your daughter insults and taunts me whenever she wants, whenever I'm around, actually! That's not welcoming at all..."

Her breathing ascended. Adamantis merely smirked.

"I enjoy this," he stated. Voice deep, not as reedy. "Nefandus has changed you, Vanessa. It will corrupt your soul. All this negative energy, how you've been treated: it's threading your mind into something more feral, more predatory. My daughter inherited such traits. It coursed through her blood the moment she was born. But you, Vanessa..." He inched closer. Slender, cold fingers stroked her cheek. She flinched, but did not back away. His words were almost... luxurious. It fed something in her. Images were painted in her mind. So wonderful, so extraordinary.

"You _can _be a true Daughter of Pandora," he continued soothingly. "You can bring about terror and chaos on the world, on earth. Just by your presence. Submit to the Atrox, and it will come. I can help you. This vulnerable helplessness you drown in every day... it will be gone, replaced by strength and power. The luxury of everything we can offer. _I _can offer."

Her arms were quaking. All strength fled her legs, and she shivered. She could replace Pandora, beauty and power. She would be more beautiful, a far greater destruction than what Pandora could have ever dreamed of. Although, Pandora never dreamt of evil. She was not a vile creature. Yet Vanessa was. She could feel that evil pusle through her blood. _Reawakened_.

"That's right," Adamantis cooed. Smirking down at her. Caressing her. His fingers threaded through her blonde tresses. Icy lips brushed across her forehead. Such a soft touch... but _not _one of a father and daughter. That revelation struck her. Dread seized her. That icy kiss splintered through her. She felt as if she were drowning in a freezing river. Raging water tearing at her flesh as she clawed for the surface.

"_NO_!"

She wasn't aware of it at first. But then, she understood that she was running. _Fleeing _down the hallways until finding her own bed chambers. She fell into the sheets. Overcome by terror. The luxurious images shattered. Shivers crawled down her arms. Her heart beat against the inside of her chest.

Adamantis lusted after her.

... And she'd finally realized it. He knew that she comprehended his desire.

That would make the hunt far more entertaining. Like dangling a knife before a wounded rabbit's eyes. Tormenting it with the knowledge of death. But for her, Vanessa, this hunter, Adamantis, simply wanted her soul, mind, and body. He would prey after her. He would court her. She would be his bride. The thought stabbed at her heart.

A wolf and a rabbit.

"_Oh, God_...," she moaned.

_Oh, Selene... Please help me. Help Serena. Help the both of us. _

_... Selene._

_-_

Serena lie sprawled across the sofa. Stanton lingered on the bed. Observing ever curve. The blanket drooped slighltly. Her leg stuck out. He turned to the window. He wanted to have her in his arms. On the bed together. No, that was... forbidden. But his willpower, as seen, was not so strong. Why not just...? With a sigh, he slipped out of the bed and trudged over to her. After heaving her up bridal style, he strolled back to the bed.

She did not stir as he set her down. Peaceful. He laid down beside her. Her back pressed against his chest. His arms snaked around her. Cold fingers toying with her hands. He clasped her hands. His lips brushed against the nape of her neck.

_Dreaming, perhaps? _

He would not disturb these dreams. They may be of home. Her brother. Jimena. Her father. He would not invade. Instead, he pressed his lips once more against her flesh. The curve of her neck.

"I love you."

The words seemed dreadful.

A _weakness_.


	3. The Escape Of The Doll

**Author's Note: **Thank you for your reviews. Sorry for the long wait, I sort of got writer's block. No bueno.

_Whisper to my heart  
When hope is torn apart  
And no one can save you_

_I walk alone  
Every step I take  
I walk alone_

_My winter storm  
Holding me awake  
It's never gone  
When I walk alone._

—I Walk Alone, Tarja Turunen

* * *

_**Chapter Three - The Escape Of The Doll **_

Adamantis flattened his dark eyes. Creases formed in his forehead. Crimson light poured into the bedroom. Vanessa, golden tresses pooled under her head, slept soundly, lips wired into a firm scowl. Slumber was not serene for her. It was entertaining having her aware of his disgusting desire. His own lust revolted him beyond reason.

But no man could deny her beauty; the lustrous waves of gold that cascaded down her back, the dark eyelashes that caressed her cheeks upon blinking, and the full lips colored a natural pink. Her powder blue orbs would haunt anyone's mind for vast periods of time.

Yet, she needed to die, to perish.

Threading his slender fingers through his white tresses, he trudged out of the room, confounded. Briskly passing Catty's bedroom, her thoughts were silent from sleep. Peaceful imagry of Chris fluttered in and out of focus, rooted to her mind's eye. He smirked, recalling the destruction of the foolish young man, the one whom protected Catty, eventually falling deeply in love with the brunette beauty.

Chris, whom perished under Catty's doing.

"Master."

A child, a _servi_, bowed, matted tendrils filthy and pasty-white skin spotted with dirt and dust. "Master, you have been called to the—" Adamantis flicked his hand, signaling for the boy to leave. Once the child vanished down the corridor, feet slapping against the wood, Adamantis breezily drifted into shadow, spewing out in the night.

_Bring your servant!_ a frantic voice cried into his head. Cursing, he whipped back around and poured into the blonde's bedroom, promising to punish the stupid boy for his forgetfullness.

"Wake up," he commanded, jabbing her frail flesh harshly.

Her eyes fluttered open, dull and drained. After slipping out of bed, she rubbed her arms and backed away, terrified of close proximity. Smirking, he grasped her wrist and they morphed into nothing more than a plume of black shadows, slithering through the crimson skies, over buildings and houses. Street lamps flickerd on and off, the electricty buzzing in the air. Gargoyles grinned wickedly from every corner.

_You'll get to see your little friend again_, he sneered, to which she gasped, excited.

After several more moments, they entered the room, the "meeting area". She fell to her knees once transforming back into regular form. He merely glided past her, the hem of his cloak brushing against her side.

"_Bastard_," she mumbled sourly, limping to her feet and trailing behind. Other Cincti members eyed her pointedly, some with want, others with sheer contempt. A curtain of blonde veiled her face as she lowered her head. Adamantis glared haughtily at Lucian, who's yellowish orbs were trained on the blonde Goddess.

Stanton formed, shadows whipping around his feet. Vanessa's eyes were glued to the curly-haired girl situated behind him. Adamantis, with a roll of his eyes, observed the two as they embraced, savoring one another's touch, realizing they weren't alone in this God forsaken slum known as _Nefandus_.

_The Atrox is disturbed_, Demetrius sent, projecting the thought into his mind.

Adamantis nodded.

The air thrummed with a strange tinge of malicious agitation. That same wispy vapor of shadows, hovering near the corner, sparked with outrage—a more so _confused _rage.

"I will convert those two _Goddesses_ into Followers," the Atrox announced in a commanding tone, one not to be challenged. "Perhaps, if desired, members of the Cincti. I will not have them prancing about, _alive _and hopeful and strong with their powers still active, if not dormat at the moment. It seems as though some of you prefer them alive."

Adamantis swallowed the lump in his throat. "When, master? And... _why_?"

"I propose in three days, in the... Elysium Fields..."

Several gasped, stunned by the words. The _Elysium Fields _was not the sacred paradise of the virtuous and noble refered to in Greek mythology. Indeed, the name was derived and taken by the Heavenly myth. But these Elysium Fields were a sacred ground in Nefandus, resting far away from the forests and the houses.

It was scorched, nothing but black. Many, many centuries ago, several Daughters—including a past heir to the scroll—managed to access this world, in a brazen attempt to rescue a fallen comrade. A vicious battle had ensued between the Daughters and several rogue Followers—ones severely against the Atrox and its evil nature—against the people of Nefandus.

Three of the Daughters had died on the field, one of which escaped. Other Cincti members had, too, fallen, under the terrible rebellion of fellow members. It was a horrible battle; a field drenched in blood and reeking of cold death.

It was a symbol of evil and good uniting under one force, one devestating force in which more than two dozen lives were lost. It was dubbed by the rogue Followers as the Elysium Fields, and dispite the distaste of its meaning by the Atrox and its Followers, it remained in place.

And it was an area no one _dare _venture.

"I will intiate the_ frigidus ignis _for the telepathic one"—Serena glimpsed at Vanessa, eyebrows pinched in distress and dread—"and the blonde one will be converted into a Follower that same time, that same day. I'm certain they'll be delighted by their _new _lives."

Adamantis slunk into Serena's mind, observing as memories of the past surged through her. It seemed... odd. Her memories, her thoughts, were fuzzy, unreachable, except for the one she was bringing up—herself as a Witch Goddess, wicked and devious and demenetd. A being devoid of human emotions. Love. But why was her mind so chaotically untouchable? His gaze instantly shifted to Stanton, staring into space, completely lost in his own thoughts.

"_No_," Vanessa whispered, whimpering slightly.

"A Witch Goddess—a Fallen Goddess." Lucian was musing, enjoying the concept of a loosened, more uncaring version of the telepathic one. Demetrius and several others examined Vanessa, imagining the dark tint of evil in her blue orbs, primal and raw.

Adamantis rubbed his temples. "Three days..."

The Atrox slithered off, the tendrils whipping about; even the Cincti members noticed the shift in the atmosphere, less icy cold and thick. Serena leaned against Vanessa, breathing shallow. Followers began conversing, whispering, eyeing one another and the Goddesses. Vanessa hooked her arm around Serena's, the two clinging together.

"Come on," he order harshly, clasping the blonde's upper arm. She twisted, but immediately halted the struggle; wistfully staring at Serena before allowing herself to be towed off. The two were extremely close, the months spent together in that rotten room twisting their once fluid friendship into a solid thread of sisterhood and comradeship: as if they'd spent an entire world war together!

Adamantis enjoyed the feel of her against him as they glided through the skies; her soft blonde hairs touching his chin, the cool feel of her smooth arms. Her back pressed against his chest as he held onto her, bodies melded into shadow.

Vanessa shivered, still haunted by the Atrox's words.

He couldn't help but smirk. She could resist evil for too long. No one could.

-

Stanton trudged down the hallways of the mansion. He and Serena hadn't spoken a word, nonetheless even glanced at one another, after that little meeting. Both were terrified. Serena, as a Witch Goddess, a _lecta_, wouldn't be Serena. She'd be something dangerous, a woman wicked and desiring nothing but the life of sin and pleasure, from murder, to decpetion, to promiscuous sex.

She wouldn't love.

Sighing, he leaned against a wall, arms folded across his chest. This was something neither could evade. He could try and escape with her, but once in Los Angeles, Regulators would be relentless in their search... and Serena would not abandon her friend, her sister. Escaping, they would eventually be captured and executed, and remaining here, she'd become something that would only use him, not love him.

So either way, he'd lose her.

His fingers trembled, and his chest seemed hollow, aching. It stung, wounding his heart and mind.

"You're not good at keeping secrets," a silky voice commented.

Stanton craned his neck. Yvonne, a newly formed member of the Inner Circle—having committed even worse atrocities—, lingered just inches away, strawberry-blonde tresses pinned into a touseled bun.

"What?" he questioned, voice low and exasperated.

"I don't even need to go into your mind, which is something I'd never do, anyway," she continued, smirking coyly, "but I was just cruising through Nefandus, enjoying the sights and... You two aren't that... quiet... or sublte, for that matter." She flickere her hand dismissively. "Then again, who am I to talk. Guys used to make fun of me for it." She simpered.

Stanton's eyes narrowed. "Yvonne. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I have every idea. I know Adamantis threatened the little Goddess, and I know that you're screwing her anyway." She shook her head, as if scorning a child. "Stanton, I would never tell, but this has got to stop. Adamantis is dangerous, even you know that. If he gets a reason to destroy her, he'll go straight to the Atrox and have it done. Simple."

"I know that!" he snapped, looking away.

She sighed. "Don't get pissy with me. I'm trying to help. You need to stop with your little sessions of 'love'"—she scoffed at this, rolling her eyes—"and leave that Goddess be. An Immortal Goddess to _you _is better than a dead one."

He gritted his teeth. In truth, he'd rather have Serena as a Fallen Goddess, toying with him, ignoring his affections, than rotting six feet under the ground, dead and nothing more than a spirit he'd never see again.

"See, you're catching on, Stanton."

"I'll ignore her then." He shrugged.

"That's obviously not working." Yvonne snorted. "And even then, can _she _ignore _you_? Even if for the sake of her own life, she's a foolish young girl with too many hormones and emotions. Why not make her believe she's nothing...? And not just say it, as done before, but actually give _live _proof? A... _visual aid_, of sorts, I suppose."

He arched an eyebrow. "Visual aid? What does that even mean?"

"Imply that you were using her through living proof."

"You already have something in mind, am I right?" he challenged petulantly. She flipped her blonde tresses over her shoulder and rolled her shoulders into a nonchallant shrug. However, she smiled smugly. Twisting into her mind, he discovered her plans, so terribly disturbing but full proof in the end; such a wicked ache that could stab Serena in the heart without much effort on either party's part.

Yvonne touched his cheek, retracting her mind from his powers. "I'm not trying to protect the two of you. But something about Adamantis..." She scowled, maliciousness carving onto her face. Many, in fact, distrusted and despised the conniving man. "He's dangerous, and he's even more _ambitious _than Lambert, of all people! But unlike the treacherous Lambert, Adamantis seems to be going smoothly on with his plan without conflict." She frowned at him. "You're just helping him along, and all for a weak little _Goddess_."

Stanton grimaced. "She's my life."

"Oh, don't be so _melodramatic_." Yvonne flicked her hand dismissively before smirking grimly. "So you know the plan?"

His chest emptied of emotion, heart aching, but despite the pain splintered through him, he nodded once before trudging off; ignoring the icy pressure crushing his heart. A lump formed in his throat as he pressed into the bedroom, instantly seeing Serena perched at the end of the bed, her emerald eyes trained on the floor.

"_Goddess_," he spoke evenly in a commanding, callous tone.

She snapped her head up, stunned, and her eyes tightened at the cold expression on his face.

_Always the perceptive one,_ he thought, aching.

-

Vanessa pressed her forehead against the stone wall, wishing to be released from Nefandus and resting in her own bedroom back in Los Angeles. The evil of the place pushed against her, trying to force itself inside her. Resisting, she crouched down, arms snaking around herself. Her eyes burned, and she could feel the hollow gape in her chest.

"Vanessa," a calm voice spoke. _Catty's_ voice, in fact.

The blonde scoffed at the quiet tone. "_What_?"

"Aren't you supposed to have hope?" her once friend demanded in a hushed whisper. "Aren't you supposed to be a Daughter of the Moon, the embodiement of hope and compassion and faith?"

"Aren't _you_?" she snapped.

Catty sighed solemnly. "Vanessa... You need to get a hold of yourself. This is _Nefandus_, and sobbing and wishing isn't going to get you anywhere." She kneeled beside the blonde, once cold brown orbs a glittering and spirited almond color. "You can do much more than you think. I'll help—"

"What's your fucking _problem_?" Vanessa shouted, tearing away and on her feet, to which the brunette also stood. "One minute we're about to attack each other and the next you want to _help _me! Like your on my side, on Serena's side!" Curling her fingers into her palm, she whipped around and marched to the corner of the bedroom, feet slapping on the wooden floor. "Fuck off."

"Calm down," Catty soothed, "I can explain everything—_show _you everything."

Vanessa snorted. "Like I'd let you in my mind. You'd probably trap me or something, _Follower_." She spat the name.

"I don't need your permission," the brunette whispered dangerously. "And you have to believe that I'm still your best friend, your sister. I can't keep up with this facade any longer, especially with what was announced. My father told me, and I've already witnessed the memory through your mind." Vanessa gasped, wondering how Catty slipped into her mind without awareness.

"You want to believe me," Catty continued, inching closer to the blonde, who's eye were clamped shut as she shook her head back and forth. "But this place, this horrid dimension, has destroyed your hope—your hope in everything. Inside you, in the back of your heart, you know I'm telling the truth, you just can't help but refuse because you've become reserved, distrusting, and cold."

Vanessa gripped the skin over her heart, breathing unevenly. "Get out of my head." Her words were raspy and dry, and she ducked her head, a curtain of blonde veiling her face from Catty's view.

"_Please_, Vanessa," she begged. The blonde remained stoic, to which she sighed. "I'll show you then..."

Vanessa felt herself being tugged, an odd pressure clawing at her skull. An unwilling haziness clouded her vision, outlined by sparks of white energy, and she felt out of place, just a soul lingering out of a body. She was witnessing as Catty, pressed against a wall, swore to protect Vanessa against the vile Adamantis; the brunette and Stanton speaking quietly to one another about those they love and the charade that was builet, a maddening masquerade that hurt wholly in every part of the soul.

_"We need to get them out of here," Catty whispered, voice throaty and drained of life. Stanton, toying with a necklace, merely frowned in a grim response, touseled blonde hairs hanging over his luminous blue orbs, so dull and listlessly emotionless. _

_Catty sported traditional, average clothing, a simple jean skirt with a double-layer of pink and orange tank tops. Her chestnut-brown tresses framed her oval-shaped face; a face pinched with exhaust and heartache. _

_"Of course we do," he replied, and she flinched at the lack of emotion present in his voice. It wasn't his usual deep and unintentionally sensual sounding voice, but one of lonliness, malice, and supressed rage. "But there's really no way for it to be possible."_

_Impossible, it was. She just didn't want to admit it, _and even Vanessa knew, who observed the scene and emotions and thoughts through Catty's mind. The memory vanished, so abruptly that she stumbled backward, smacking into the wall. Catty, gliding toward her friend, towed her to her feet. A gasp escaped her mouth as the blonde's scrawny arm wound around her, fingers digging into her brown mane.

"_Vanessa_," Catty breathed, relieved; the once ache in her heart shattering and being replaced by a euphoric pleasantness that expanded all through her body. Embracing, the Daughter couldn't help but shed tears, the salty little streams slinking down her cheeks and dampening Catty's robe. But just as Vanessa retracted from the hug, a stinging sensation coated Catty's cheek.

"The hell?" she gasped, cupping her scarlet-painted cheek as it burned.

Vanessa, hand still raised, smirked coyly. "That's for being a mega bitch for the past weeks."

"You slapped me!"

The blonde merely shrugged and rubbed her arms soothingly. A cold chill whistled in through the open window. "What are we going to do about this situation?" she questioned grimly.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll talk with Stanton later, and see."

"Stanton," Vanessa mused, completely intrigued by the Follower who acted differently. "I wonder what _he _thinks about the situation?"

-

Serena laced her trembling fingers through her smooth curls, desperately trying to ignore the numbing ache spreading through her body. An icy pain shot down her spine, near paralyzing her. Stanton's awful words echoed through her mind, over and over, and the callous expression on his handsome, stony face haunted her vision.

Using her for pleasure, he had stated. It was realistic, seeing as she _had _originally egged him on. Yet, the countless encounters of tender affection contradicted this proclamation of his.

Sighing, she briskly exited the bedroom, intent on washing her gown, when she halted, mid-step. Blood drained from her face, the circulation staunching upon a sight that constricted her throat. Grief and jealousy stabbed her chest, creating a massive hole to which all her emotions spilled forth. The desire to flee erupted, but she remained rooted to the spot.

_I hate this place_, was her intial thought, devestatingly struck by infuriation, as Stanton's lips peppered the neck of Yvonne; the delicate flesh of that frail curve, delicious skin. The two were consumed in that moment of tender passion, a fleeting sensation for the two of them. Their fingers intertwined, eyelids cealed shut, physical contact emenating a warm glow of attraction.

Whipping around, Serena staggered into the bedroom once more, his words _once _again bouncing all around in her head. Despite the growing ache, she couldn't weep nor scream. Instead, she flopped down on the edge of the bed, a final conclusion coming to mind: that he, indeed, from the start, merely was using her. Or perhaps, after his plunge into the evil he had _chosen_, thus becoming Prince of the Night, Stanton had vanquished his human emotions and toyed with her the entire way.

And she, the foolish teenage girl, played along, cheerful and jubilant to the fact that someone loved her. It was a concept—to love and be loved in return—everyone lusted after, and she recalled her blood boiling when he'd first spoken the words.

"I hate this place," she hissed through her teeth. She was losing herself in the darkness of her own mind. The wickedness she'd supressed since that fateful night stirred, a chilling tremor of various sensations erupting in her soul. She could feel the electrifying energy spiraling through her system, rewiring the mechanisms of her heart and mind.

Maybe... _maybe _becoming a Dark Goddess, a fallen one, was not such a disdainful thing. These useless, pathetic emotions would cease to exist, replaced by a vicious pulse of life and love for all that is thrilling, from sinful acts to constant sex—which she found she enjoyed _very _much. She'd be completely driven by evil, and heartache would never again lodge itself inside her heart.

"Immortality," she whispered.

She could obtain this high-ranking status, using it to her advantage, striking at every one of Stanton's weaknesses, eventually exposing him and replacing him; she, in turn, becoming _Princess _of the Night. To possess such devestating powers was delightful sounding.

With renewed energy, she hummed to herself while bathing that night, hands smoothing along her arms and legs. Once dry and her curls soft and bouncy, yet flowing down her back in sexy spirals, she slipped into the gown and lithely began fluffing the pillows of the sofa, knowing it'd be her bed. At the same time, Stanton trudged into the room, shoulders slouched and complexion... _ill_. Curiosity overwhelmed her.

"Glad to see you comprehend," Stanton sneered, eyeing her new bed.

Serena merely pursed her lips and sang little tunes in her head, sometimes imagining her cello; playing it lovingly and with talented preciseness. Stanton, frowning, continued on toward the bed, stripping off his shirt. With a roll of her eyes, she laid down on the feathery soft sofa, wrapping a silky blanket around her fragile form.

"Good night," she said mockingly.

His agitation decorated the air, to which she smirked.

Being _Princess _of the Night would be amazing, from the stature and power. To be in command of ever evil being belonging to the Atrox, from meager little Followers—the ones who craved a position in the Cincti—to the brute Regulators. All the terrible nights spent in Nefandus clenching her heart, and she could feel her blood scorching through her.

"Your thoughts are trivial and useless," Stanton stated from the bed, to which she perched down on the sofa, a wicked smile carved onto her face. A tremor of dread quaked in his tone, and she detected it easily. It would be simple to just deliver the information that could destroy him in a heartbeat.

"... Are they?" she whispered coarsely, a rush of sorrow slamming into her. What would Collin and Jimena think of her now, plotting to strip her ex-lover of his position and existence—for he would surely be executed—and become the second-in-command to the being she swore to destroy? She was drowning in all the possibilites, switching from _Serena _to the _darker_, sadistic version; the one desiring not to feel such pitiful human emotions. Everything about Nefandus was corrupting her soul... twisting her humanity into some icy abyss, and she felt nothing but a black void in her heart.

How was _Vanessa _fairing, always weaker when it came to such temptation?

-

Catty grinned beamingly as she and Vanessa waltzed around to room, her black robe flapping about. Old tunes billowed from some ancient records, and both girls trembled with supressed laughter as they attempted to remain in step. The once crimson light was shielded by thick curtains, unable to enter the room in which only the warm glow of candle flames licked their skin and eneveloped the bedroom.

"My father made me learn how to waltz," the brunette shouted excitedly, giggling straight afterward. "He said I should be more sophisticated!"

Vanessa shook her head from side to side. "Why did you choose to be the man?"

"'Cause I'm less girly," she responded in a high voice threaded with the rapture of the moment. They burst out laughing and twirled once more, a few steps, before both slumping to the floor, exhausted. Catty reached over and swept several strands of gold away from Vanessa's eyes, to which the blonde smiled gratefully and fell onto her back. The Follower mirrored the action.

"This is very forbidden, isn't it?"

Catty frowned. "Yeah. I'm suppose to hate you, _Goddess_." The faux vindictiveness brought tremors to Vanessa, who felt it to be very real, despite knowing the truth. "But I guess... I don't know what to do anymore!" She flayed her arms dramatically. "I can't keep this a secret. No way, man. But I think... I think he wouldn't do anything... I don't fucking know! With you guys becoming _not _Daughters in three days, I don't think he'd give a fuck!"

"What's his deal, anyway?" Vanessa questioned, rubbing the nape of her neck. "He has one plan after the other. What are they?"

"I'm sure he wants Stanton dead, and his position as Prince of the Night," Catty responded, her petulant tone directed toward her father. "And he wants... _other _things, as well." The Daughter shifted uncomfortably. "He's just so confusing and ambitious, it's hard to keep up. I barely have time to plot anymore. The portals open tonight." She rolled to her side, staring into Vanessa's eyes. "I'm sure I can get you there... and Serena, maybe."

Vanessa pursed her lips. "_Maybe_...?"

"I wouldn't be able to take you, find Serena, and then leave with the _both _of you. By the time I would be heading to Serena, someone—Adamantis or some traveling Follower—would find out, would see my thoughts, and then there's a mad chase." She shook her head. "Too risky."

"Risky! That's all we've ever been!"

Catty sighed. "We can't be now, Vanessa. Your lives are at risk. A world without the Daughters..." Biting her lower lip, she clasped her hands together, and Vanessa noticed them shaking. "I need to get you out tonight—the both of us, actually. We need to live... _You _need to live."

"What about Serena?!" she demanded, jumping to her feet and glaring down at Catty. "We're just gonna leave her here?"

The brunette, sliding to her feet, fumed. "We have to! One of you has to stay alive, a Daughter of the Moon! Because I can get _you _out of here, it'll be you!"

"Can't Stanton get Serena out of here, too?"

"I spoke to him about it." She rubbed her temples, calculating now as she paced from one side of the room to the next. "He seemed... unsure. He wants to be with her so badly, and mean _desperately_... but if he managed to leave with her, their lives would be on the line. He doesn't want to live a life where he has to protect the both of them constantly. He doesn't want to watch as their caught and she's brutally tortured."

"What about us?" Vanessa hissed, eyes narrowed. "_We'd _be hunted down, too, and you don't see us whining about it!"

Catty grimaced. "He's blinded by love, the moron. He's _too _in love, to the point where decision making on any basis concerns him _and _Serena, always.

"... And I'll go to him." With that, the brunette vanished, dissolving into shadow. Vanessa, breathing raggedly, perched down on the bed and folded her arms across her chest. A tingling sensation sparked in her blood., the same emotion _Michael _once triggered. Why did it please her so much to know how much Catty was going through in order to ensure her protection and survival?

It felt so heart-warming.

-

Stanton, trudging down the hallway, glowered at his own feet. Not soon later, another presence filled the room, and he swiveled around, already expecting the dark-haired girl to be strolling toward him. Her lips were pressed into a firm line, dark brown tresses framing her stoic face. Dark orbs glimmered with a plethora of emotions. Heaving a sigh, he marched on over to her, to which she remained in her furious stance.

"_What_?"

"I'm going to escape with Vanessa tonight, when the portal opens. I advise you do the same with Serena, if you want her to _be _the same in the next three days."

He scowled furiously. "That's suicide, for all of us. You can't expect me to—"

"I don't know. All I know is that I'm leaving, with Vanessa, very, _very _soon. There's no use in trying to persuade me not to." She crossed her arms, hip cocked in a petulant manner as he glared haughtily at her. "Don't get pissy with me, just 'cause I have a plan and you're too busy moping around."

"I can't just leave so easily," he snapped, "I know I'm being watched by those loyal to Adamantis. I have those who fear me, not those who support me." His eyes shifted to the high windows, stretching to the everlong ceiling of the hallway. Shimmering burgundy light spilled across the marble floor, and illuminated the darkness passing over his face. He was observing the shadows twirling through the night, slipping around pinnacles and sharp points.

"I'll try..."

"Yes!" She clasped her hands and grinned ear-to-ear. "I knew you would! You act like it's completely impossible."

"I'm _acting _like it's too easy," he stated in a gruff voice. "It's a terrible idea, I can feel it."

Catty frowned. "Feel it? We can manage. Trust me." With that, her form burst into shadow, seeping through the cracks in the window, and rising up above into the night. As she glided away, his voice echoed through her mind, a final thought before she kissed Nefandus goodbye.

_You must know, if I had a chance months ago when the portals opened, I would have taken it... Why would I consider now? Ask yourself that, before you make your brazen move, Catty... Why would we choose __**now**__, when many chances were given previously? _

She swallowed the lump in her throat, understanding lingering in her head for a short while before she regathered her courage and continued onward; ignoring the horribly sickening towers and buildings looming over her, casting an ominous glow across the area.

_Was _it too easy...?


End file.
